


Red Right Hand

by DarlingNikki



Category: Hannibal (TV), Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Animal Sacrifice, Barebacking, Bonecarving, Bottom Will, Clothing Kink, Dark Will, Explicit Sexual Content, Fortune Telling, M/M, Magic, Magical Will Graham, Romance, Rough Sex, Runes, Sharing a Bed, Top Hannibal, Weddings, Wendigo Hannibal, Will Finds Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 14:44:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8106337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarlingNikki/pseuds/DarlingNikki
Summary: Will's been invited, to a wedding, that is.  A childhood friend has met the man of his dreams and is getting married, and wants Will to come be the best man.  Will accidentally checks plus one, which leads him to panic and ask his crush, Hannibal Lecter to come with him, even though Will knows that nothing can happen between them, because no matter what Hannibal says about not looking at Will like a curiosity to be studied, he is still acting as Will's psychiatrist and it would be deeply unprofessional for something to happen between them.  It's not like Will's a catch anyway, he's deeply unstable and sees too much of the ugliness of the world around him, Hannibal would never be interested in someone like him.  As they go to the wedding and attend the events, will the love in the air be a disease that they catch in the small town of Night Vale?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Hannibal Big Bang 2016, and is unbetad, so if you spot any typos I missed, feel free to let me know. Title is from Nick Cave, not sure if it works, but you know, I like it.
> 
> Huge amounts of thanks and love to [hachiseiko](http://hachiseiko.tumblr.com/)! She did some awesome [art](http://sta.sh/01knz4oxmu15) for me, that you will see in the story! She's seriously awesome and talented! Thanks! <3 Also, huge thanks to [fictionalfaerie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalfaerie/pseuds/fictionalfaerie), my real life bestie, who despite being on the brink of madness from trying to finish her own work, found time to help me with some points I was getting stuck on. She's awesome! Also, if anyone is interested, I have info and notes at the bottom about some of the things I included in this, mostly the food, lol. It is Hannibal, after all.

It starts with an invitation, as these things generally do, going to weddings, that is.  A deep purple envelope is mixed in with the normal junk mail of credit card offers and contracts to sell your eternal soul to the forces of all-consuming darkness.  All went into the trash, but the lurid purple shade caught his eye, as it was indeed meant to.  That particular shade of purple, heliotrope, was a special shade indeed, it meant home and hearth and a place unthought of, but well remembered.  Heliotrope was also the proper name for bloodstone, and bloodstone always made Will think of playing Duck-Duck-Goose around the Bloodstone Circle in Grove Park after the rituals held at the public bloodstone circle there.  This envelope was from Night Vale.

Will turned the envelope over to examine the return address, to see who exactly had gone through all the trouble to reach him here in Wolf Trap, Virginia.  It took a lot to get a letter out past the city limits, after all, certain sacrifices to the Post Office had to be observed, and the Sheriff's secret police demanded a hefty bribe.  It was an expensive prospect, so letters outside were indeed a rare occurrence.  

Will smiled seeing the name on the return address, Cecil Baldwin.  Of course, it would be him.  The Voice of Night Vale and the first friend that Will had ever made in his life.

* * *

 

It had been the second day at Will's newest school.  The first day had been unremarkable, other than some well-meaning, but incorrect fellow student trying to point Will to the section with the sixth-grade newbies before the orientation ceremony.  Will had coldly told the boy this was his correct section, that he was just a new transfer.  After that, no one had attempted further conversation with him.  By lunch time the next day he sat alone at a table, and was resigned to the fact that he was at another new school, and there was no chance whatsoever of making friends since he was surrounded by cliques who had been long established with no room for the odd new kid with the piercing eyes.  It was always that way at new schools, Will was used to it by now.  Even when he's started school and stayed in the same place for the first couple of years of his schooling, his classmates had no time for him.  He was too different from them, with his threadbare secondhand clothing, and poor creole accent.  But another new year, and another new school and Will had been in the same situation, friendless and alone.  

He had just spent his time staring at the writhing gelatinous mass on his tray, not paying much attention to the surroundings.  So when someone plunked down clumsily in the chair next to him, he had looked up, surprised, to meet two clear lavender eyes that were studying him intently.  Will had been confused by the unexpected company, he had even tentatively asked if he needed to move, but the boy had smiled at him and introduced himself.  The boy's name had been Cecil Gershwin Palmer, and he had accepted Will, weirdness and all.  Will hadn't been any stranger than anything else that existed in Night Vale, and in that simple moment, a lifelong friendship had been born.

* * *

 

Will cracks the black wax seal on the envelope and pulls out a heavy cardstock square, and a folded sheet of plain notebook paper.  The card first then, Will decides.  It's an invitation.  It's a wedding invitation.  Apparently, Will's friend Cecil is marrying some fellow named Carlos.  Nothing more to be gained from the invitation, Will turns to the folded sheet of paper, a more personal letter from Cecil to Will.

_Will,_

_I've found the one!  I am in love, and Will, my dearest wish is for you to come home for the wedding.  I know it's been years since the last time you came home, but I would be ever so pleased if you came.  You are still my very best friend, despite the years, and things would not be the same without you here._

_Cecil_  
_P.S. You should bring a date!_ _  
_ P.P.S.  Also could you bring some bone runes?  My last set of runes crumbled to dust after a particularly ominous casting.  You were the best in school at selecting the bones and carving the symbols.  You just really seemed to understand how to channel the emotions to properly charge them!

_P.P.P.S.  Be my best man?_

_P.P.P.P.S.  I swear this is the last post script, Will.  Have you gotten to listen to the radio show recently?  If not remind me to tell you about how Carlos proposed!  It was the most romantic thing ever!_

Will laughs as he puts the letter down.  It seems like Cecil hasn't changed at all.

Will fills out the RSVP section of the invitation, checking the box for a plus one, and drops it into the mailbox.

* * *

 

Will forgets about the invitation for a few weeks.  He only remembers because Beverly had been complaining about her second cousin's wedding and how boring it had been.  “Dude, they were like, Uber Christians.  No booze, no freaking fun.  It was the worst wedding ever!”  She chuckles, “I thought wedding were supposed to be fun!”

Will glances at her, and finds he can’t help but grin at the petulant pout she’s making.  “Sounds terrible to me too, Bev.  I supposed they had no pickled herring, either?”

“Ew, gross Graham!”  Beverly makes a face, “Pickled herring, that normally a thing your family has to have at weddings then?”

“Well, yes, that and enough booze to last for at least three days.  Weddings are supposed to be a celebration, of life and continued survival.”

Beverly shrugs, “Well, that much booze sounds fun at least.”

“It is..” Will trails off, “Fuck, I knew I was forgetting something important.”  He runs his hand through his messy hair.  “Any chance you want to go to one with me?  The 31st of the next month.”

Beverly laughs, “No way, no how.  I’ve got plans that weekend, besides Will, June doesn’t have a thirty-first.  You do know that right?”

“Oh, right.”  Will forgets sometimes, the calendars don’t actually always match right, between Night Vale and other places.  Most days are the same, but some are different.  Extra days, and days no one speaks of like December sixth, a day that never seems to ever happen.  It just gets lost, Will thinks, perhaps it is a day of such mind-numbing horror, that everyone just blacks it out to protect the tattered shreds of their already fraying sanity.

“Why not ask your crush?”  Beverly can’t help but smirk and singsong word before continuing.  “Hannibal would be happy to go anywhere, as long as it was with you.”

Will’s face turns red, and he looks away.  “Uh...why don’t you go over what you’ve found on the body from the case?”  Hannibal wouldn’t want to go with him.  Will couldn’t bear to hear Hannibal tell him that he was overstepping the bounds of their doctor and patient relationship, as he would surely do.  No matter what he’s said before about being Will’s

 Why would someone like Hannibal want to go to a small town wedding with Will, of all people, as unstable and crazy that he is?  

He wouldn’t, that’s just how Will’s world works.

* * *

 

Time flies past.  Will never quite manages to get the nerve to mention to Hannibal about the wedding.  He still can’t believe that he’d RSVP’d that he was coming with a guest.  He never takes a guest to events, he’s pretty much given up all hope of dating.

It never goes well, and Will is sick of feeling awkward.  It’s always the same, with women or men, he looks at them and then he.  Oh, they’ll look great on paper, but he can tell that she’s a serial cheater or that he is a controlling asshole, borderline abusive, and Will puts up with too much ugliness at his work.  He has no desire to deal with such in his personal life.  He wants a loving relationship.  He wants someone who understands him.  He wants someone to surprise him for once.

Hannibal is perfect, but for one fact, that he is Will’s psychiatrist and they are already skirting the edges of propriety with their friendship.  There is a line, and even if Hannibal was interested, dating would cross it.  Hell, it could even lose Hannibal his medical license, and being the cause of harm to Hannibal is the very last thing that Will wants.

It’s just that, well, Hannibal’s lips look so kissable, and Will can’t get the idea out of his head.  Sometimes he even spends hours thinking of what it would be like to wake up next to Hannibal.  Will sighs, and thinks, Hannibal in his pajamas, silk no doubt, and ugh, probably a beautiful rich sapphire that would look gorgeous with his skin tone, and imagine Hannibal’s hair, sleep-tousled and falling into his eyes.  Those mesmerizing eyes, the color of dried blood, blinking sluggishly at him, seeing Will and only Will.

It’s a beautiful daydream, but one Will is certain he will never get to know the truth of.

Besides, now that he has remembered the wedding, even if he must suffer the embarrassment of showing up without his plus one, which is a dangerous prospect in Night Vale, you need a safety buddy after all.  If you don’t have a safety buddy, then who’s going to know when your doppelganger kills you and takes your place?  No one.  But Will has remembered, and Cecil requested a specific gift, and it’s one that Will is perfectly capable of creating for him.  He steps out onto his porch and breathes in the humid air that carries the scent of plants heavy with life, ripe with decay.  Winston follows along behind him as he walks down the steps and starts to head into the woods.

He wanders.  He takes in the sights of the woods, he can see kudzu growing over trees turning them into sentinels standing watch over the forest, monsters waiting looking down from above.  The paths beneath Will’s feet grow smaller and less well kept, he’s left the man made trails and is instead wandering through the forest creature’s pathways.  He hears nothing at first but the tread of his feet on the ground with Winston following calmly behind him, but as he becomes accustomed to the silence then he can hear even more.  He can hear insects teeming near the ground, wind breezing through the trees, animals near silent as they move through the undergrowth.  He’s not really looking where he’s going, he knows his feet will eventually lead him there.  This isn’t a skill he learned, it’s more something that he just figured out that he can do.  His feet will lead him to where he needs to be.

He walks quietly through it, enjoying the dark coolness of the wood, where it’s not quite as hot as it is when he’s directly in the sunlight, exposed.  His shirt begins to stick to him, from the humidity.  He’s getting closer to it too.

Will has always loved being outside, his earliest memories were of being outside with his father, fishing in the river.  It’s one of the reasons why he picked the house in Wolf Trap.  He’s away from other people, who he can understand, who he can mimic, but who he is not at all like.  

He keeps walking until he comes to a pile of bones laying scattered beside the path.  Will crouches down and looks at them, they have been out here a while, the bones have no fur nor flesh left upon them.  It’s a surprise to Will to find what looks like an entire skeleton in such good condition, and not lost to the growth of the forest or some enterprising scavenger.  He picks up the skull and examines it, it looks as if this is the skeleton of a canine, perhaps a coyote judging by the size of the skull left behind.  It’s been here a while, insects have picked it almost clean.  Will pulls off his flannel shirt and uses it as a makeshift sack to collect the bones into.  He will have to bleach them out with hydrogen peroxide to make them pretty, but these will do well for Cecil’s gift.

It lucky too, Will muses to himself, that there is an entire set, found together after nature has taken back the flesh and blood and reclaimed them into itself.  This means the final product, the runes that Will plans to carve into the surface will have more power and work better, tell truths scattered in their fall.

Will heads back to his house, and this time his steps have a purpose, and Winston seems to sense the change in the atmosphere as he bounds and bounces around Will as they walk home.  Will smiles assured that at least one thing is going right, even if he still really does need to find a date before the wedding.

* * *

 

When Will makes it back to his house, he sees Hannibal’s Bentley parked next to his own vehicle.  Hannibal isn’t sitting in his car, so he must have let himself into Will’s house, figuring Will would be back soon, and it’s not like Will had bothered to lock his door.

Will strides inside, and of course, finds Hannibal waiting in his kitchen.  Even though Will’s kitchen is quite different than Hannibal’s, it’s still the one room in Will’s house that feels most like Hannibal’s own domain.  Hannibal cooks with a passion and joy, it’s only natural he is self-assured in that realm.

Hannibal speaks while Will is setting his bundle down upon the kitchen table, “I am terribly sorry to intrude, Will, but I found the door unlocked, and took the gamble that you would return shortly.”

Will looks down self-consciously at the bundle he’s brought in, he had just set it down on the table, without thinking.  It’s not going to hurt anything, there’s not any soft flesh left to carry bacteria since it’s been quite a while from the coyote’s time of death.  He can just wipe the table down afterward, but Hannibal will probably find it slightly disgusting, considering Will does occasionally eat at that very same table.  Not often, but sometimes.  “It’s fine, Hannibal.”  Will looks up from the bundle resting on the table, and sees Hannibal give him a small quirk of the lip, a true smile, and Will grins happily at the expression.  “I’d just took Winston out for a walk in the woods.  It was peaceful out there.”  

Hannibal looks at Will’s face, takes in the contentedness and happiness found there, then tells Will, “Yes, I’m sure you found it so,” Hannibal looks away from Will to the bundle on the table, “It looks as if you found something of worth out there as well?”

Will centers his shoulders and looks Hannibal in the eyes, “I did.”  He unties the bundle before continuing, “I found a mostly intact, clean canine skeleton.  Judging by the time from the utter lack of soft tissue, it’s been dead for quite a while.  It’s actually pretty well to find entire sets like this, since scavengers usually carry them off.”  Will busies himself pulling out the largest plastic container he has, and pulling out the biological powder, to wash them with, and a large bottle of hydrogen peroxide to bleach them to a lighter color.  “I’m making someone a gift.”  Being around Hannibal is like a needle pointing to due north.  He is always aware of Hannibal; he is always drawn to Hannibal.  It loosens Will’s lips, and draws out statements and explanations that he did not offer to anyone else, so Will continues on, “I’m making a set of carved bones for a friend of mine, I’ll be using the ribcage of this coyote, once I’ve gotten them cleaned up a little.”

“Really, now Will, what an artistic hobby for you to engage in.  Have you ever seen pictures of the Frank’s Casket?  It’s an early 8th-century Anglo-Saxon piece made from carved whalebone depicting a diverse set of stories upon it.”  Hannibal steps closer to Will, “How will you be carving it?  And what will you be using as the motif for it?”  As Hannibal speaks he is slowly moving closer, and he seems eager to hear Will’s response.

Will realizes this meditation is something that he’s never brought up with Hannibal, and it uses his knowledge and insight into death, into decay, to create something wholly unlike their origin.  It is change, but also memory because the pieces make the whole, and it is a piece of himself that he would like to share with someone else, with Hannibal.  It could even be considered a form of art, so, of course, this subject would catch Hannibal’s attention.  So the next words roll easily out of Will’s mouth, “This part is a little boring, Hannibal, I’m just going to wash these, and soak them in hydrogen peroxide to bleach them, but the next part is a little more fun to watch, if you’d like to come back in about two weeks you could watch me carve them?”  

Will doesn’t regret the words at all when he sees Hannibal grin at him, bright and boyish and mischievous.  “I’d love to, but only if I can bring you dinner over as well?”

“Hannibal, there is never going to be a time I turn down you feeding me.  That would be great!  Come over around five on the eighteenth?”

* * *

 

The radio in the kitchen kicks on after Hannibal leaves, while Will works on washing the skeleton.  The parts that he doesn’t end up needing for Cecil’s gift will be saved and kept for any future projects.  Perhaps the skull could be a personal piece to keep and remember for himself?  

 

> Meet the man of your dreams. Specifically the dream where you're being watched from the shadows & you wake up silently screaming.
> 
> — Night Vale podcast (@NightValeRadio) [November 25, 2013](https://twitter.com/NightValeRadio/status/404801087783600128)

 

Will hears Cecil’s voice on the radio and thinks about the next time he’ll see Hannibal.  It’s the perfect date set up.  An ability to show off a skill, a reminder of death to put reminders of life on the mind of Hannibal, and a new set of bones to throw.  Pieces of bones carved with a symbolic purpose in mind held power in Night Vale, they were a surprisingly accurate way to tell fortunes or read portents and were a common tool for daily divinations there.  Will knows the feelings it is made in will affect the future use of the bones, and wonders about what these will be useful for?  He packs away the supplies and stows everything away where his dogs can’t get access to it, and goes about his daily life for now.

He certainly can’t call Hannibal and cancel, it would be highly rude, and Hannibal is his friend, and Will enjoys spending time with him, even if sometimes he wishes that they were more than friends.

* * *

 

The day arrives.  Hannibal is coming today to watch.  Will is busying himself with setting up the tools he will need on the table.  An organized workspace is the best approach to any project after all, and it will make the process go smoothly once Will starts working.  Handsaw, a set of wood carving knives, and a few different sheet of sandpaper are quickly set out.  It’s almost time for Hannibal to arrive as well.  Will doesn’t have any mirrors to check his appearance, so instead he wipes his palms against his slacks and walks outside so he can sit on the porch and wait for Hannibal’s arrival.

Today’s the day, though, and Will still isn’t sure that he’s ready.  He scratches behind Applesauce’s ears and looks out while thinking.  He’d only invited Hannibal on a whim.  He’s never invited someone to watch him do something so deeply personal to him, he’s never even wanted to invite someone before.  He’s so nervous about this, and when Will is nervous then the worrying starts, and who knows how worrying will affect the outcome of the carving?  The feelings and emotions that Will experiences during the carving will forever mark what the bone runes will best be able to foretell.  Their very essence is born from their creation.  Will wasn’t thinking when he invited Hannibal, and Will had already made up his mind about rescinding the invitation.  It just wasn’t something that he could do to Hannibal.

With that thought firmly in mind, Will looks up and sees that it is definitely too late for rescinding anything because Hannibal’s car is pulling up his driveway.  It’s showtime, and now Will is the dancing monkey on the stage.  

No, Will thinks to himself, he knows that’s not how Hannibal views this.  Hannibal probably sees this as a chance to spend time with a friend.  Will gets up and walks down as Hannibal is parking his Bentley.  

“Hello, Hannibal, I’m glad you could come.”  Hannibal always appreciated the social niceties, Will knew.  “Do you need any help?”  

“Ah, hello, Will,” Hannibal walks to the trunk and opens the latch, “I would not mind if you got the cooler for me.  I can carry everything else myself.”  He gathers the handles of a couple of reusable shopping bags and waves his other hand towards a cooler sitting next to them.

Will picks it up, and they make their way inside.  “So what have you brought to wow me, this time, Hannibal?”  

“Just a simple herb roasted beef heart with Hasselback potatoes and carrots.  I also brought some fresh Norwich sourdough bread I made to go with the roast from the batch I baked this morning.  It has a hint of pumpernickel which I find enhances the taste.  I thought you might appreciate some simple hearty fare after your work was done.”

“Well, I can’t wait to taste it.  It sounds amazing!”  Will sits the cooler down on the counter in the kitchen.  “If you need any help finding anything in the kitchen, please let me know.  I’m going to go ahead and start the more boring parts of my project.  I need to saw the ribs into even parts, and then sand the edges smooth.”  Will sits at the table and grabs the first rib.  He starts working while Hannibal unpacks the bags he’d brought with him, first pulling out a bottle of wine and an opener.  He makes quick work of opening the bottle.

“Where are your wine glasses, Will?”  Hannibal starts opening cabinets and checking their contents.  

“Over one more.” Will gestures, “They’re on the top shelf.”  He doesn’t use them very often since Will much prefers to drink straight bourbon instead, but Hannibal has excellent taste in wine, so it won’t be a hardship for Will to drink what he’s brought.

“Thank you, my dear Will, let me pour you a glass before I begin.”  A glass of wine is handed off to Will, who takes a sip, and nods before sitting it down.

“That’s nice, Hannibal.  You know I’m not normally a wine drinker, but you always have the best.”

Hannibal puts on an apron, and Will can’t help but fixate on his forearms as Hannibal rolls his sleeves up.  The subtle shift of the corded muscles of Hannibal’s arms sends a sharp jolt of warm arousal through Will.  What would it feel like to have those arms wrapped around him, holding him in place?  Or even, and shame shoots through Will at this thought, those sure fingers wrapped around the back of Will’s neck holding him down?  Will quickly looks away and begins to saw the bones into smaller pieces.

“There is no point not having the best, Will.  I will settle for nothing less, in any aspect of my life.”

“Is that why you aren’t in a relationship, Hannibal?”  Will looks back up at Hannibal, his gaze catching for just a second on his bared forearms, before settling on looking somewhere near Hannibal’s eyes.

“Yes, Will, it is.”  Hannibal smirks as he turns to face Will, “I need a partner who is my equal in every way, and I will settle for no less.”  Hannibal turns back to the counter and begins to pull out the rest of the ingredients for tonight’s dinner, sitting the cooler to the side for now, and putting some spice containers near the cooler.  He pulls out a glass roasting dish, and the vegetables and begins to prepare them before placing them in the pan.  

Will doesn’t know what to say to Hannibal, so instead he focuses on his task, going back and forth with the handsaw to section the ribs.  He makes them small enough to fit comfortably in one hand and piles the cut pieces off to the side as he finishes them.  The back and forth motion is soothing and Will sips at the wine as he works, his mind going quiet for once.  

Hannibal finishes cutting the vegetables and starts to trim veins off the heart that he’d brought.  He cuts it open and sprinkles generous amounts of the spices he’d brought with him upon the heart.  It’s a macabre sight to Will, the heart looks eerily similar to a human heart, but honestly most red meat makes Will think of the various gruesome crime scenes that he’s viewed in his line of work.  There’s several reasons his diet contains a lot of fish, and that is one of them.  But Hannibal is in his element, deft and sure, and Will does enjoy seeing that.

All the bones are now cut to the size that Will wants them to be, so he sets aside the saw and picks up sandpaper instead.  He begins to scrape it against the sharp edges, smoothing them down so that when he’s completed them they will slide against their user’s hands like silk.  One by one, Will sands them down.  It’s almost time for him to begin most important part of the work.  

Hannibal is searing the sides of the roast in a pan on the stove.  Will clears his throat, “It’s almost time for the part you came to see.  How’s that coming along?”

Hannibal turns his head to peer back at Will before saying, “It’s almost ready to go into the oven.  It just needs to roast for about an hour.”

“Okay, that sounds perfect.  Finish up and then come sit with me.”  Will goes back to sanding the last few pieces into shape, and by the time he’s finished, Hannibal is sliding the roasting pan into the oven and setting a timer that he sits next to the stove.  Hannibal brings the bottle of wine over when he comes to join Will at the table and refills their glasses.

“So Will, what got you into this type of artwork?”

Will shrugs, “I picked up wood whittling from my father.”  He selects a small hooked knife from his collection and begins to move it over one of the bone pieces.  “I learned how to apply that skill to this particular medium back in Night Vale, a town I’d lived in previously.”  The shape of the logo for the Night Vale Community Radio is the first image to be carved.  The moon in the eye is an auspicious rune to be the first to come to Will’s fingers.  Will’s completely forgotten his earlier nervousness, thanks to Hannibal’s quiet company and the first glass of wine he’d finished.  His shoulders have loosened and his hands move deftly to bring change to the surfaces of the bones in his hands.  Hannibal’s eyes are focused on Will’s hands watching as he skillfully wields the knife to create images.  

“You are quite good at it.  Why these images?”  He picks up a piece with entwining tentacles coming from the bottom corner to fan out across the surface as if they were reaching for something that not quite in their reach.

“I don’t really pick them consciously,” Will looks at Hannibal and for once looks into his eyes.  Hannibal’s sharp interest pricks at Will’s attention.  “I just think of who I’m making these for, and the images just come to me.”  

A new rune joins the small group of completed ones, this one showing a single Protea flower, symbolizing change and transformation.  Will is honestly surprised at how well this is going.  He has an audience, and yet, he feels as if he is completing his best set ever made.

“Who is the friend you are making these for?”  Hannibal’s tone seems sharper than before, and Will would have sworn that he saw strange shapes moving darkly in the corner of his eyes.  

“My oldest friend, Cecil.  He’s getting married soon, and requested I make these for him specifically.”  Will notices that the lights in the room seem to get brighter at this statement.  Will drains his glass of wine and ignores the shadows moving.  If they’re here to hurt him, and they’ve gotten past the protections built into the foundations of his home, then there’s not much that Will himself can do anymore.  Come what may.  “I’m actually the best man at his wedding, as well.”  He plays with the stem of his glass for a second before sitting it down.  Will’s body feels foreign, almost alien to himself in that moment.  He’s still floating from the feeling of channeling the spirits that seem to guide the images from the movement of his hands, holding the knife, to the images that appear.  He’s not felt the force moving through him like he has tonight, not since he was a young boy fresh to learning the ways of sinew, cartilage, and bone.  “It’s the last weekend in June if you’d like to join me.”

That dispels the floating feeling that Will had been under the influence of.  That was an even more outrageous question to ask Hannibal than the dinner tonight had been.  No one goes as friends to a wedding together, an invitation to an event such as this is much more than that.  If Will is lucky, Hannibal will turn him down.  It’s so close to the date, Hannibal surely already has appointments booked with his patients, there’s no way he will say yes.

Will is wrapped so deeply in these thoughts that he almost misses Hannibal’s reply.

“I’d love to.”  Hannibal smiles boyishly pleased at Will, and that’s when the timer goes off.

While Hannibal is busy pulling the roast and plating it for them, Will allows his head to fall to the table, knocking a single bone rune to the floor.

It’s the Protea flower rune, change and transformation.

That night as he eats Hannibal’s gourmet take on a beef roast Will wonders what kind of change has been foretold for him.  
  


* * *

 

After dinner, once Hannibal has left to return to his own home, Will is doing the dishes from dinner while the radio plays softly in the background.  He’d insisted to Hannibal that he was more than willing to handle them since Hannibal had provided their dinner.  

Cecil’s voice speaks softly, almost inaudible saying, “Today's forecast: Sunny w/ a chance that for a moment you'll feel really great about yourself & your life. Savor those moments as they come.”  Will hears this snatch and he might even be considered at peace with his slip, and it’s results.  Will still can’t believe Hannibal is really going to accompany him to this wedding.  

But there’s nothing you can do when forces beyond normal ken take advantage of the fact that you are in a blissful state from a combination of wine, good company, and the naturally good feeling that comes from using your abilities to make a powerful spiritual tool.

At least he won’t be alone.  It never used to bother Will before he met Hannibal, being alone that is, but now there is a knowledge and an ache.  Loneliness nips at the heels of his formerly peaceful solitude.  He’d lied to himself when he’d told Hannibal that he didn’t find him that interesting.  He lied and not even recognized the signs, until it was too late.  There is something under the surface, lurking beneath still waters moving in the depths.  The lights did dim, and Will did indeed see strange shapes lurking in the shadows from the corner of his eyes.  He’s not sure what it means, but Will watches, and yes, for the first time ever Will finds himself very interested indeed.  This slip, this trip is more than just a chance to not be alone for a time.  Maybe this could be a chance to know Hannibal, and overcome all the things that lay between them, known and unknown.

Will makes sure to sweep some salt out of the doorway that Hannibal left from, in hopes that Old Woman Josie was right when she told him that doing so would bring someone back again.

* * *

 

It’s the night before Will and Hannibal will have to leave for the wedding.  Will feels somewhat unsettled, but he is not sure why.  His radio plays in the background on station WZZZ, Will finds the monotone female voice reading random numbers out to be a soothing sound to fall asleep to.

That night Will dreams.

He is in a forest that he does not know.  It is night and the trees watch him, some of them even seem to have faces growing in their bark, mouths wide open with looks of confusion and silent screams.  The path before him is claustrophobic and made up of dark brambles that catch and pull at his arms and legs.  He can’t tell if they’re trying to hold him back or push him further along.  He can hear the rustle of hooves on wet leaves behind him, and when he looks back he can see a large stag behind him.  The stag’s coat is made of feathers, black as night, and it stalks behind him.  It watches as Will pushes forward through the brambles, making no sound other than the noise that had first alerted him to its presence.  Will doesn’t know what it means, or why it follows, but it feels so very important and like it’s hovering right on the tip of his tongue like a piece of knowledge that he knows that he knows, but just can’t seem to connect.

Will dreams of it so frequently, but he has yet to put a name to the feeling it brings him.  It almost reminds him of Hannibal’s presence in the kitchen, silently watchful but so very attentive to Will’s needs.

Finally, Will breaks through the brambled path and it is like passing through a doorway to another place.  He comes out into a clearing, with giant onyx stones forming a stage before him.

Standing in the center of the natural stage is a tall man with horns growing from the top of his head and glowing red eyes.  The man, the creature looks as if it has been dipped in tar.  It has been waiting for Will.  The path pulled him here to see this.  He squints at the face and it resembles Hannibal so sharply it takes Will’s breath away.

The dream seems to break apart.

* * *

 

Will wakes up terrified and with a brief period amnesia.

Will is rather used to the feeling; he wakes up from his dreams frequently remembering neither what of his dreams cause him to wake up terrified, so frozen that it takes minutes for his mind to return to him, while he sits in a dark room, nor able to remember his name, his past, or even the image of his own face.

Will rubs at his eyes, once he finds the tattered shreds of his composure.  This dream was important.  He knows it was important.  All he can remember of it though is a glimpse of Hannibal’s face, yet monstrous.

He sits up and grabs the bottle of whiskey he keeps on his nightstand for nights like this.  He pours a generous slosh into the waiting glass and knocks it back quickly.  The burn is familiar and comforting to Will.  As he lays back down, Will wonders what this dream could possibly mean?  

Is it a portent of the future that Will is not ready to understand yet?

* * *

 

When Will wakes up at a much more respectable time of the morning, he is still slightly unsettled from the dreams he’d had.  He’d never quite managed to get back to sleep properly.  He tossed and turned and sweated instead of sleeping after waking, sometime around dawn he’d slept a dreamless sleep that seemed to do nothing to help his state of tiredness, but at least the blank numbness had passed the hours.  Will is used to operating on little sleep, though.  It happens regularly, and at least, this time, he didn’t wake up on the side of the road to concerned cops wondering why he was wandering back roads in the middle of nowhere in his underwear.

Still, the dreams unsettled Will, and he thought it best to ask for an answer during his daily chanting ritual.  He received no answer from any higher powers, which was probably a blessing in disguise, considering they tended to have vengeful and petty personalities, which made them a nightmare to deal with.  They took offense at the slightest infractions, and that offense was often deadly for the being that had caused it.

Will went down to the kitchen and fed his pack of dogs.  As they ate their breakfast, Will sat at the table playing with the bone runes he’d made for Cecil.  He stuck his hand in the bag and moved them around letting them slide through his fingers.  He did this until it found three that felt different than the others in the bag.  Those three seemed to call his name, beseeching Will to pull them from the bag and to gaze upon their images.

One, two, three, Will pulls them out.

As Will’s fingers move over the symbols he’d carefully carved onto each surface, he hears a voice whisper gently in his ear, almost inaudible since there is no actual person in the room to speak these words to him.

 

> Pick your battles. Choose your lifetimes. Decide carefully on your universe.
> 
> — Night Vale podcast (@NightValeRadio) [March 14, 2016](https://twitter.com/NightValeRadio/status/709406284928389121)

Now Will has an idea, there is something coming, his dreams are telling him something that he can’t quite get a grasp on currently, but it is important.

Soon Will will decide.

* * *

 

Hannibal pulls up Will’s driveway, and Will is ready now.  He has an idea of what is coming, and just like when the fear had gripped him in the kitchen, when the shadows moved and there was some strange power inside of his home, Will knows the only way through is to go forwards.  He’d forgotten while living safely in Wolf Trap, so far removed from the danger and fear and uncertainty of Night Vale.  It is time for him to sink back into that mindset again, even if he is just a visitor this time.  Hannibal doesn’t know what to expect from Night Vale, and Hannibal will need him.

When Hannibal gets out of his car, Will greets him.  “Hello, Hannibal.”  Will grabs his bags and checks that the door is locked, before sliding a key under the welcome mat for Alanna to use while he is gone.  “I’m ready to go.”

“Greetings, Will.  It is good to see you.”  Hannibal looks happily at Will and opens his trunk to place Will’s bag into it.  “Are you going to enjoy the change in your environment?  I find that I sometimes enjoy the chance to get away sometimes.”

“Yes, I think I will, Hannibal.  I am glad to go back, and I’m also pleased that you will be accompanying me.  I’ll have to show you around town some before the wedding itself.”

“I would enjoy that,” Hannibal gets into the car, “So how long did you live there for?  This town seems to be of much import to you.”

Will’s not sure how to answer this.  He’s a little fuzzy on the concept of how much time actually passed while he was in Night Vale.  He’d only aged about a year, but the time spent included at least three separate Christmas celebrations, and there was a time period that everything shown like amber while time moved at an accelerated pace.  Not to mention the fact that Night Vale had extra days where there were none in a more normal place, and it just lost some other days for reasons varying.  Will looks out the window while he tries to figure it out, “I think we were there for three or four years.  Long enough for me to consider it home, even though I’ve not been back there in much longer than I’d ever spent there.”

“It is good you have a place to call home.”  

* * *

 

They drove through the day.  They’d started on interstate 95 to get to interstate 64, and that led them onto interstate 81 which took them out of Virginia to Tennessee.  Near Knoxville, Tennessee they got on interstate 40.  Hannibal made good time on the drive, and he and Will made small conversation as they drove.  Will, of course, felt a little awkward, it’s never fun being trapped in a car with someone you have a crush on, but as the hours went by and the scenery passed he felt the knot in his chest unraveling.  It became easier and easier to talk with Hannibal, about things other than work for once.

“So do you have a place you consider home, Hannibal?”  Will looked over to watch as Hannibal answered.

“I’ve always loved Italy.  I hope to one day retire there.”  Hannibal’s voice softened as he describes it.  “Perhaps I’ll own a small vineyard there, and spend my days trying to make the perfect batch of wine.”

“That sounds lovely, Hannibal.  I personally have never thought about what I’ll do when I retire.  For a while, I was convinced that I would never live that long.”

Hannibal shifted in his seat, “Why did you think that, Will?”

Will laughs sharply, “Well, considering the places that my imagination is drawn to, I never was any good at thinking of happy thoughts.”  Will shrugs before continuing, “I was also voted most likely to die by eighteen by my high school class.”

“Most likely to die by eighteen?  What a gruesome thing to have a superlative for.”

“Oh no, it wasn’t official, but all the same, everyone thought I wouldn’t survive.”

“Now that makes no sense to me, Will, because if nothing else you are most certainly a survivor.”

* * *

 

The radio cuts on.  Hannibal is taking a nap in the passenger seat, while Will takes a turn driving.  It’s getting late, and Will should be looking for a place for them to spend the night.  Instead, he is enjoying the soft sounds of Hannibal’s snores, while letting the intermittent static from the radio lull him into a focused state.

 

> Whisper a dangerous secret to someone you care about. Now they have the power to destroy you, but they won't. This is what love is.
> 
> — Night Vale podcast (@NightValeRadio) [March 20, 2013](https://twitter.com/NightValeRadio/status/314379817623617536)

Cecil’s voice again.  When Will lets his mind drift, all radios eventually tune into Night Vale’s community radio station.

* * *

 

Will ends up driving through the night.  He gets off the interstates that Hannibal had put them on, instead taking a left turn onto an unfamiliar dirt road, then an immediate right onto an even rougher side road.  All roads eventually will lead him to Night Vale.  It’s a matter of getting, increasingly lost on strange roads.  Eventually, the dirt turns to flat sand.  He sees a hovering light in the distance, it lets Will know that he is going the right way.  In the corner of his eye, he sees ghostly after-images of vehicles that haven’t been in production for decades, speeding towards places unknown.  This is a sure sign that they are getting closer.

Hannibal sleeps in the passenger seat, unaware.  That’s probably for the best.  It’s hard to explain how you arrive in Night Vale.  It would be hard to explain that a trip that should have taken them twenty-six hours, will only take them about half that in reality.  Night Vale is as much of a state of mind, as well as a semi-concrete physical location, so how they arrive does not actually conform to the geography of the rest of the world.  Night Vale is a secret place, a hidden place, but Will knows the way.

Finally, the road turns into a paved highway.  Will can see the Welcome to Night Vale sign, stating population 13,282, but as he gets closer the sign changes, and the population count drops to 13,211.  Something must have just happened.  It’s not important, though.

Will doesn’t look at the sign further, but as he passes it, it changes again.

Welcome to Night Vale.

Population 13,213.

* * *

 

As Will drives through the streets proper of Night Vale, to Miss Shirley’s Boarding House, he notices that the streets are quiet.  He doesn’t even see the mysterious hooded figures loitering the near the dog park.  Even the lights hovering above Arby’s look subdued.  He turns near Dark Owl Records and slows when he nears Miss Shirley’s.  The blackened twisted skeletons still stand sentinel along the driveway.  The one nearest the entrance is a huge cat of some type.  Its jaws are massive, and Will shudders at the thought of the sheer amount of pressure the beast’s bite had had, once upon a time.

Hannibal’s eyes slide open as the car pulls to a stop, he twists in the seat to blink sleepily at Will when Will begins to speak.  “Hey, we’re here.  We just need to go in and get our room keys.”

“I did not intend to fall asleep,” Hannibal yawns, “I did not provide a very good companion to you during the last leg of our journey.  I apologize for that, Will.”

“It’s okay, Hannibal, you’re only human, and you were tired.”  Will shrugs and motions for Hannibal to get out of the car.  “I’m probably way more used to late nights that you are,” Will laughs self-deprecatingly, “Benefits of being a chronic insomniac, I guess.”

Will pops the trunk and gets out both of their bags.  “Thankfully, I don’t think Miss Shirley ever sleeps, so it’ll be quick for us to grab the keys and get to our rooms.”  The door knob turns creakily under Will’s hand and as the door opens they can hear a loud TV being turned down.

“Who’s there?”  The voice huffs, “I’ve got my damn pistol, and I ain’t afraid to use it.”

Will laughs after hearing that, “Miss Shirley, you wouldn’t shoot me, now would you?”  Will knows his accent is changing to match the tones of Miss Shirley.  He hopes that Hannibal isn’t too put off by it.  There’s just something about Miss Shirley that he can’t help but mimic.  She has a life, a brashness of spirit, and her thick southern accent is so right for that state of being.

Will smiles happily at the skinny old woman sitting on a stool behind the counter.  She’s dressed like a Fifties greaser, with her steel gray hair in a tight ponytail.  “It’s good to see you, ma’am.”  Will sets his bag down by his feet, and Miss Shirley gets up from her stool and comes around the counter to wrap her bony arms around Will’s shoulders.  

“Ah, boy, it’s good to see you again, too.”  She pulls back and pulls a cigarette from behind her ear to light.  After she lights it, she takes a quick puff and exhales, “You’ve been gone for too long, my boy.  When are you gonna come back for good?”

Will takes a step further back, and bumps into Hannibal standing quietly at his back.  “Oh, I don’t know.  I like where I am now, and I’m just back for Cecil’s wedding, this time.”

Miss Shirley smiles, “No, you couldn’t miss that!  That’s the biggest event that’s happened in town!  Bigger than that mandatory company picnic was even, at least this time the guests will actually want to be there.”  She looks off into the distance, before going on wistfully, “Those boys are really something.  They’re in love, stupidly so.  I really hope it works out for them.”

“Yeah, Cecil sounded very excited when he invited me.  I can’t wait to meet Carlos, after how pleased Cecil seemed.”  Will rubs at his eyes, and allows himself the luxury of leaning further against Hannibal.  “But, Miss Shirley, we’re awful tired, so can I get our room keys so we can get to bed?”  Will doesn’t pause, “I promise that I’ll make sure to play catch up before I leave town this time.”  

“Oh, that’s fine, my boy!”  Miss Shirley walks over to the peg board behind the counter and pulls down the only set of keys hanging on it.  “Room thirteen is the only one left,” she passes the old-fashioned bronze key to Will, “Take your gentleman and put him to bed, he hasn’t said a single word and looks to be dead on his feet.”

“Goodnight, Miss Shirley.”

Her long curved nails trail restlessly on the counter.  “Goodnight, young man.”  Her eyes watch as Will leads Hannibal up the stairs to the room.

* * *

 

Room thirteen is the attic.  It’s bigger than most of the other rooms in the boarding house, and Will quickly leads Hannibal along the steps to it.  He’s hoping the couch in the room is larger than the ones in the parlor.  As a kid, Will could comfortably nap on them, but as an adult Will doubts that will still hold true.

His fears are, of course, proven correct when he looks into the room.  The couch, from the looks of it, is even smaller and perhaps more spindly than the couches that Miss Shirley had kept in the parlor when Will was a kid.  There’s no way he can sleep on it, and this room only has one bed because it’s the Honeymoon Suite.

Hannibal and him will have to share the bed.  There’s no choice, well, one of them could sleep on the floor, but Will bets that Hannibal will be much too chivalrous to allow Will to do so, and there’s no way Will will let Hannibal either.  He’s already convinced Hannibal to accompany him here, to a small boring one horse town in the middle of nowhere, there is no way he can let Hannibal be that uncomfortable this weekend.

“Will, there seems to be only one bed in the room.”  Hannibal is gazing over Will’s shoulder.  “But it seems rather large, if you have no problems with it, I do not think it will be a problem for both of us to fit comfortably.”

“Are you sure, Hannibal?’  Will sets his bag down.  “I’m a rather restless sleeper, and you know I sometimes sleepwalk.”  Since Hannibal offered, it’s only fair for Will to share the downsides of sleeping next to him, no matter how much Will actually wants to sleep next to Hannibal.

Hannibal laughs off Will’s protests, “Well, I am a bit of a cuddler, according to others, so maybe I will hold you in place.”  Hannibal looks thoughtful for a brief second, “From a therapeutic standpoint, it has merit, deep touch pressure stimulation is very good for helping patients with problems filtering out background sensory information.”

A hot spark of jealousy burns in Will’s stomach at the thought of Hannibal’s

and it mixes with the jagged glass feeling of hopelessness at the face that this is proof that Hannibal only thinks of Will as a patient.  Will will be sleeping next to Hannibal tonight, but it’s not the same.  It’s not by Hannibal’s choice.  It’s born of necessity, and Hannibal’s choice is what Will dreams of, and envies of Hannibal’s past bedmates.

Will does his best to ignore the sickness in his gut as he unbuttons his shirt and slips it off.  Hannibal takes his bag into the bathroom with him.

A few minutes later Hannibal comes back out dressed in a soft looking set of silk pajamas straight from Will’s dirtiest dreams, right down to the rich cobalt color.

Will’s breath catches in his throat, and he hurries into the bathroom.  Will fumbles with the faucet, and then cups his hands under the water and splashes his reddening face with the cool water.  He needs to calm down or he’s going to make this even worse for himself.  Hannibal really will banish him to the floor if he wakes up to Will molesting him in his sleep, and Will really would rather avoid that embarrassment.  Being around Hannibal already makes Will somewhat uneasy due to his crush, he’d rather not be mortified every time he saw Hannibal.

Will leaves the bathroom and climbs into the bed beside Hannibal.  He can’t stay awake.  Will needs at least some sleep to function, he is not inhuman after all, but it’s hard to will himself to unconsciousness while laying in the same bed as Hannibal.  He can smell Hannibal’s cologne.  He can almost taste the underlying cloyingly metallic notes in the back of his throat.

Will’s eyes are heavy, though, with Morpheus's dust, and he falls asleep with his body held a careful distance from Hannibal’s side of the bed.

The careful distance doesn’t last the night, though.  Hannibal makes sure of that when he’s absolutely assured that Will is deeply in REM sleep.  He pulls Will into his arms, running a hand up Will’s spine until his fingers tangle in the curls at the nape of Will’s neck.  A satisfied sigh escapes Hannibal’s mouth, and Hannibal goes into the passages of his childhood home, held forever safe in his memory palace.

* * *

 

Will struggles awake, limbs heavy and brain drowsy.  He does wake up this morning able to remember his own name, but it does, in fact, take a minute to remember that it is not his natural state of being to wake up next to someone else.  When he finally does, he jerks away from the warmth of being held possessively from behind by Hannibal.  He dashes to the bathroom, and well, Will’s morning is now off to a typical start, he’s splashing cold water in his face to wake up while regretting his life.  Will just knows that as soon as he let his guard down he buried himself in Hannibal’s arms, and Hannibal was asleep and didn’t know.  Okay, Will knows he owes Hannibal an apology for this, even with Hannibal’s offer of therapeutic cuddling.  He just has to bring himself to leave the bathroom to do so, and so Will does because despite all of Will’s particularities and sheer awkwardness, Hannibal is his friend, and Will will not shirk an apology owed.

As Will walks out of the bathroom, he’s already addressing Hannibal, “I’m so sorry, Hannibal, I didn’t quite manage to stay on my own side of the bed last night.  I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“Now, Will, you do not have to be embarrassed.” He peers at the slightly lessened dark circles under Will’s eyes, “I did not mind, and you seem as if you slept quite well.”  Hannibal waits for Will to look up at him after those words, and when Will’s eyes meet his, Hannibal continues, “I found it comforting to dream next to you.”

Hannibal’s words ring true to Will.  Will can see the content expression upon Hannibal’s face, he has the air of a large cat laying out in the sun after a successful hunt.

“Oh,” Will breathes, and his last reading comes to mind, a choice must be made.  Will finds himself wondering if this is a part of the path to lead him there.  A brief step on the way, to damnation or salvation.

It must be.  All steps lead the way.

One foot in front of the other, Will thinks, then he completely sidesteps the issue for now.  He wants to wait and see more from Hannibal, first.  So Will goes on to the more mundane matters of the day, “I’m going to give Cecil a quick call and see what our plans are for the day.”

Hannibal nods in acceptance and then goes to perform his own ablutions for the morning.  Will can’t help but to watch him leave the room because his fantasies didn’t in fact cover every aspect of Hannibal’s body in those wonderful pajamas, and Will finds himself drinking in the the sight of Hannibal’s ass in the clinging silk pants.

It’s a very nice sight to see indeed.

Will’s mood is now completely morphed from his earlier embarrassment in the bathroom.  Instead, Will feels vaguely optimistic about the near future.  He is going to let himself enjoy this weekend.  This is not the time for crippling indecision and self-doubt.  He’s here for a happy reason, and he is going to allow himself to feel that joy.  He picks up his cell phone and dials Cecil’s number at the station.

A woman’s voice answers, “Hello, thanks for calling Night Vale Community Radio, if you need to be connected to Station Management please hang up, you don’t call Station Management, Station Management calls you.  How can I help you?”

“Yes, is Cecil available?  This is a personal call.”

The intern that had answered the phone replies, “You’re in luck!  He’s getting ready to go to the weather right now.  I’ll connect you in a second.”

“Thanks.”  Will is very glad that he won’t have to listen to the station’s hold music.  It’s a dreadful muzak mishmash of Polka and R&B that sounds like it’s being hummed into the back of a box fan so it has some shambling distortion as well.  Will is so very glad to not have to listen to it.

“Hey, this is Cecil!”  Will can hear that Cecil is just as chipper and upbeat as always, nothing gets him down for long.  Cecil is naturally buoyant.  

“Hey,” Will speaks fondly, “I’m in Night Vale now, got in late last night.  As your best man, I’m now at your disposal, so do you need help with anything?  Got any bodies needing hiding?”

Cecil laughs, “No, no bodies this time, but next time I do you’re my first call.”

“How about lunch then?  I’d really like to meet Carlos before the wedding itself.”

“Sounds great to me!  I’m doing some last minute work before our honeymoon!” Cecil continues, “It’ll be really, really nice to be off work, and I hope the interns run everything smoothly, and that all of them survive.”

“I’m sure that they will, they are the best.  Station Management doesn’t settle for less.”

“True, true, but I haven’t left Night Vale since I went backpacking in Europe, and that’s a long time ago.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Cecil, you trained those interns and I bet they’re just as passionate about community radio as you are.”  Will goes on, “So where do you want to go for lunch?”

“How about we meet at Big Rico’s at one?”  Cecil’s voice changes intonation dropping lower, “No-one does a slice like Big Rico’s.  No one.”

Will brushes off the tonal shift, and why wouldn’t he?  He remembers hearing about the night that every other pizza place in town burned down, and Big Rico’s is very tasty.  “Sure, sounds good to me.  I’ll see you then!”

“Bye, Will!” and then Will hears the click of Cecil hanging the phone up.

Well, they’ve got a plan for today, hopefully, Hannibal won’t mind eating pizza for lunch.  It’s not like there is any restaurants of the caliber that Hannibal is accustomed to in Night Vale anyway.

* * *

 

Will wants to look away, but can’t.  He just can’t look away from Hannibal’s expression as he takes in the outfits that Cecil and Carlos felt were appropriate to wear out in public.  It may be a little mean of Will to be enjoying Hannibal’s distaste for their sartorial choices, but that’s life.  Cecil is wearing a hairdresser’s cape, as a cape, in fact, over a faded yellow t-shirt saying “Praise the Sun” on it.  His vinyl pants creak with every movement of his legs as he walks closer, and Carlos is almost dressed nicely in his black dress with daisies printed on it.  It’s just that the rumpled lab coat and his ratty sneakers being held together with duct tape, mean that the dress is made to look much less nice than it would’ve been on it own.  Will is glad that his comfortable khakis and plaid shirts are plain and rather nondescript.  He couldn’t imagine going through life with the number of eyes on him that their getups would cause.  He knows Hannibal is baffled, that dressing in this manner seems mad to Hannibal’s own precise sensibilities, but at least Will’s sure that Hannibal is never without his manners and charm.

“Hi, Cecil!”  Will pulls Hannibal over to meet them.  “And you must be Carlos.  It’s nice to meet you!  I’d always thought that Cecil was going to end up married to the station.”  

Carlos looks over at Cecil, and his gaze is besotted.  “It’s nice to meet you too.  Cecil has talked so much about you!”  Carlos tears his eyes away from their idle gazing at Cecil.  “I’m a very lucky man.”

“Oh, this is Hannibal.  He’s a friend of mine that agreed to come with me last minute to the wedding.”

“It is pleasant to make your acquaintance.  I was happy to accompany Will to such a happy occasion.  I think he needs more of those in his life.”

“Hannibal.”  Will bites out.  “Let’s have fun.”  It’s no time for Hannibal to be playing his therapist.  Will would rather forget that.  Will keeps hoping that Hannibal would be willing to forget that, and perhaps, that’s not so crazy a dream as Will had previously thought.  Will can’t help but think of the morning, waking up curled in Hannibal’s arms.  He’d felt safe when he woke up.  Not confused and afraid, which was his normal waking state.

They’re sitting at the table, waiting for the waitress to bring them the menus.  Hopefully, Hannibal will find something that won’t offend his palate.  The pizza is rather good.  It’s the best slice in Night Vale.  No one does pizza as good as Big Rico’s, no one.  Then the waitress comes, and Will forgets his thoughts because she does something very odd indeed.  She takes drink orders normally as she hands out the menus.  She is completely normal until she comes to Hannibal.  But then she looks into his eyes, and she freezes like she’s caught in the gaze of a predator.  

Will looks into her eyes trying to see what she sees, and then suddenly he does.

She looks into his eyes, that color, that hellish color.  She has seen it before.  Dried blood in the moonlight, it glints like rust at her.  There’s a monster that has those eyes, she knows that this man in front of her is just like that.  Tread carefully, and keep your manners and he will hopefully overlook you.  You never want to be noticed by something like that.  You don’t want his attentions.  Play dead and hope he moves on.

Will pulls himself back from her.  Shaking a little from the effort of pulling away from her sticky black tar fear that clings and tries to pull him back under.

Hannibal turns towards Will, “Are you well, Will?  You look pale.”  He doesn’t turn back to the waitress, but he does tell her, “One water, please.”  The waitress breathes a sigh of relief and steps away from the table.  

“Will, are you forgetting to feed yourself, again?”  Cecil sounds disappointed.  “Carlos, tell him how important eating is!  He shouldn’t forget.”

“It is very important, without calories you don’t have any energy.  It’s fuel for your body.”

“I didn’t forget to eat.”  Will is indignant at the accusation, “I’m an adult, I’m quite capable of caring for myself.”  He looks down at the salt and pepper shakers on the table.  “It was something else, I saw something.”

Cecil looks interested, “Okay, Will, so what did you see?  Does she really have a crush on Intern Dana, I mean Mayor Cardinal?  I’ve been dying to know!”

“No, nothing like that.”  He answers absently.  “She was terrified.”  He looks questioningly at Hannibal.  He can’t see what she saw when he looks.  He just sees Hannibal sitting calmly at the table, handsome and perfect.  While yes, he will admit the color of Hannibal’s eyes is similar to what she saw, but Will cannot see the cause for terror in it.  It is a striking color.  It adds weight to Hannibal’s gaze, an elegance that others lack.  Will thinks about painting his bedroom ceiling that color.  He could wake up and pretend he’s gazing into Hannibal’s eyes.  “I’m not sure why, though?”

“Interesting, Will.”  Hannibal looks over at Cecil, “So you are the announcer for the local radio show?  So how do you find that job?  I myself am a therapist, these days, although I used to be a surgeon.”

“It’s always interesting!  I really get to see events as they unfold around town, and get to know the citizens of Night Vale.  It’s my calling.”

“Yes, Cecil just loves working at the station, he’s very dedicated.”  Carlos blushes.

“You’re quite dedicated to science yourself, Carlos.  I know biology isn’t really your field, but I’m sure you and Hannibal here have some common interests.”

“Actually, you’re staying at Miss Shirley’s, right?  Her statues are fascinating.  They’re never in quite the same position when you look at them.  I’ve been meaning to set up a camera to record them to see what the results would be.”

“They are quite grotesque for lawn ornaments, but I truly doubt that they move.  They seemed to be in the same position this morning, although I will grant that I was not paying the utmost attention when we got in last night.”

Carlos nods, “You should take a closer look when you get back in.  You will see what I mean then.”

The waitress comes back with a plate of garlic knots floating in butter and chopped up garlic.  The smell is heavenly, rich and unhealthy perhaps, but Will’s stomach growls at the scent.  He is surprisingly hungry.  “What will it be for you all today?”  The waitress sits the plate of bread down on the counter.  

Cecil is the first to speak up, “We’re going to split a medium Cheese and Honey pizza.”  He indicates Carlos, and the waitress turns and looks towards Hannibal.  This time, she seems to be trying very carefully to stay calm.  Will is very sure that if he took her pulse, it would racing dangerously.

“I think I’ll try the Scallop Butter Soy Sauce pizza.  It’s been quite a while since I’ve had a Japanese style pizza.”  Hannibal gracefully waves the waitress off, and she takes her chance to escape his gaze.

“And what for you, hon?”  She faces Will.

“I’ll just have a slice of the Creole Pizza.”  Will struggles with appetite most times, but this is a favorite of his, that isn’t readily available at any other place.  

It’s nice to be out with Hannibal, even with strange reactions from waitresses.  When Will looks at Hannibal, he looks much as he always has, and while perhaps the inky black tips of the antlers that seem to be randomly sprouting from Hannibal’s head are new, they are still nothing to be alarmed about.  Will finds them quite handsome himself, their dark color contrasting lightly with the ashy blonde of Hannibal’s hair.

* * *

 

The lunch ends up going surprisingly well.  Will is pleased, he can feel that something is going right in his bones.  Station Management doesn’t call Cecil back to the station, and no wild scientific data distracts Carlos.  Will is pleased.  Hannibal was a gentleman, and Will couldn’t stop himself from shooting besotted glances at Hannibal with every chance he got.  Will still can’t stop himself from shooting besotted glances at Hannibal as they wander along downtown Night Vale, taking in the sights.  Hannibal seems to be drawn to the tattered majesty that is the Old Night Vale Opera House, which now sits condemned, an elegant ghost left in the heart of Night Vale.  Will isn’t surprised, he knows where Hannibal’s interests in the arts lie.  

It is pleasant to walk beside Hannibal, though, and to point out other points of interest as they pass them.  These quiet moments at Hannibal’s side, well, to Will might even be more important than his dreams and fantasies.

It’s a good day for Will so far, and in Will’s life good day like this are few and far between.  He leads Hannibal along, as they walk back to Miss Shirley’s.

* * *

 

When they make it back to their room, Hannibal disappears into the bathroom to get ready for the Bachelor party festivities later tonight.  They’re not doing anything too exciting, just some bowling and maybe a visit to Arby’s afterward.  (Apparently, Arby’s is very important to Cecil and Carlos’s relationship, they’d first expressed their feelings for each other there once upon a time.)

Will looks up startled when the bathroom door slams back open, though.  Hannibal stands in the doorway with the light from the bathroom behind him casting his face in shadow.  His horns loom higher than they were earlier in the day, seemingly grown several more inches while Will wasn’t exactly paying attention to them.

“I need to ask a question of great import, Will.”  Hannibal points to his head, “Can you see these too?”

“I thought you’d noticed?”  Will is confused.  They are rather hard to miss now, that’s for sure.

“No, when did you notice them?”

“This morning,” Will shrugs, “Stranger things have happened here though, and they aren’t unattractive.”  Will blushes, but continues, “I think you look rather handsome with them, like Herne the Hunter in the flesh before me.”  Will walks over to Hannibal and reaches his hand up so he can trace a finger over their points, “There’s another change too.  Why, what sharp teeth you have, Hannibal.”

Hannibal’s eyes are glinting strangely at Will’s words, and he grabs Will’s hand and brings it down to his mouth.  “Am I attractive to you, Will?”

Hannibal’s tongue touches the tip of Will’s fingers, “Yes,” Will mumbles out strangled.  “Yes, you are very attractive to me.”

“Good.”  Hannibal’s teeth catch Will’s flesh, and a few drops of blood well out of the small cuts.  Hannibal licks them away, before kissing the cuts, and releasing Will’s hand.  Hannibal retreats back to the bathroom to complete his evening preparations, and Will is left wondering what exactly that was.

* * *

 

The Bachelor party starts slow, with Will and Hannibal meeting Cecil and Carlos at the Desert Flower Bowling Alley.  But more and more people begin to show up, and Will needs a break from it.  So he goes outside to get some air.

A man sits on the bench across from the entrance.  Will cannot see his face, in fact, it seems as if the man does not actually have a face or at least a face as normal people would call a face.  A blank blur of flesh, smooth, but for the hollows of where his eyes, if he had them, would have been.  Will can hear the buzz of flies flowing from between the seams of his sturdy briefcase where it leans against his legs.  He wears a tan jacket.

Will sits next to him.

The man in the tan jacket does not acknowledge Will for the moment, and Will is grateful for small mercies.  He’s still confused by Hannibal’s actions earlier in their room and just wants a moment to himself.  Is it the sign that Will has been waiting for?  Perhaps.  Why did Hannibal ask that, why did Will feel so compelled to tell him the truth?  The world is full of whys.  

The man in the tan jacket stands to leave the bench, and says to Will, “You’ll never get the answers you want sitting out here by yourself.”

That’s true, and Will knows it.  Will nods his thanks, for the silent companionship, and the push.  In his skin, down to sinew and bone, Will knows that Hannibal always has reasons for every action he takes.  He is a very careful man, after all.  If Will really wants to know if, despite Will’s instability, despite Will’s difference, that Hannibal could care for him, then the only thing to do is to ask Hannibal himself, not sit alone on a bench outside of the party agonizing over his choices.

Will walks back into the room and sees Hannibal immediately.  He can always find Hannibal in a room, his eyes are drawn to the true north of Hannibal.  He asks Hannibal “How are you enjoying the party?” when he reaches him where he’s standing by the bowling lanes.

“It is not terrible.  A bit informal compared to what I normally attend, but the people here are interesting.  I was actually talking to a woman who swore she spent a significant amount of time out of phase with reality, and after recent developments, I find myself believing her.”

“Dana, right?  I heard a bit about that from Cecil once.”

“Yes.  This seems like quite an interesting place to live in.  Did you enjoy your time here, Will?”

“Yeah, I did.  I really love it here.”  Will looks down at Hannibal’s glass, which is nearly empty.  “Want another drink?  I could use one myself.”

“Yes, this is actually a very nice vintage, I believe I would not mind another glass.”

So Hannibal and Will make their way over to the bar, where Cecil is sitting and narrating the first time he saw Carlos, while Carlos blushes and tries to wave it off.  “His hair was perfect, and we all hated and despaired and loved that hair in equal measure.”  Cecil notices Will, “There you are!  I was wondering where you had hidden at!  Don’t forget, you have to tell our fortune tonight!”

“I promise I haven’t forgotten,” Will smiles happily, “I’ll do it whenever you want me to.”

“Great!  Now shots first, then an augury!”  Cecil giggles and hands over a clear glass of something, a rather large glass at that, to Will.  “Drink up and turn that frown upside down!”

It burns going down, and whatever is in the glass is strong.  Will almost drops the glass on the bar, and gingerly sits it down.  “Happy now?”  He burps, and the room starts to blur.  Will reaches out and uses Hannibal’s arm to steady himself.  

“Very much so.”  Cecil does look rather satisfied with himself and seems to pay special attention to where Will is clutching Hannibal’s elbow.  Cecil shouts at the crowd, “Let’s move to the park, everybody!”

Will keeps using Hannibal as a guide as they walk to Mission Grove.  The air is crisp and cool and carries just a hint of bloodshed from somewhere far off.  It’s a nice night for a walk.  Hannibal’s solid presence beside Will steadies him, and at the time unbalances him.  He just wants to get closer, maybe walk with Hannibal’s arm wrapped around his shoulder.  What Will does not notice is, he’s speaking this out loud.

“My dear boy, all you had to do was ask,” and with that, Hannibal pulls Will closer and tucks his arm around him.

“What?  Oh, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”  Will looks down, “This is nice, though.”

“Yes, it is.”  Hannibal’s arm briefly tightens around Will’s shoulders.

When they reach the park, they separate.  Hannibal stands back from Will as he walks up the pond that Cecil has led the party to.  Cecil gestures at the pond, “Take your pick.  I know this is your favorite way to tell.”

Will looks at the pond and sees several fat fish swimming peacefully.  His eye is caught by a large albino koi swimming gracefully through the water.  “That one.”  He points, “That one is the one I need.”

“Oh, thank you so much, Will, for doing this for us.”

“Oh, I don’t mind.”  The fish is caught and passed along to Will.  He takes the fish to the public bloodstone circle and pulls out his pocket knife.  The knife slides in easily near the tail.  One quick cut along its belly and the entrails spill out into Will’s hands, warm and meaty.  He runs his hands along them as he watches the fish die.  His fingers pull out the rest of the organs.  The liver is the easiest to spot and examine, he weighs it in his hand, then sets it aside and finds the heart, which a little harder to spot.  They both are healthy, which is a good sign for Cecil and Carlos.

Will projects his voice, “Good signs, a healthy fish.”  He holds up the liver, “Good color on the organs, no creepy black ooze hiding inside waiting to cause death from the inside.”  He brings is hand back down before continuing, “I say there’s a happy marriage ahead for these fools.”  Will smiles, and speaks to Cecil in a more normal tone, “You are going to be fine, you may face hardships, but it will be together, and you will always find a happy ending with each other.”

“Thank you.”  Cecil hugs Will ignoring the blood on Will’s hands.  “You’re a good friend, Will Graham.  You need to find some happiness for yourself, too.”  He pulls away and pushes Will toward where Hannibal is standing and watching the proceedings.  “Tell him,” he whispers.

Will shakes his head, and sways on his feet.  Hannibal comes up to him, touches Will’s arm.  “You look tired.  Do you wish to head back to our room?”

“Yeah, I think I do.”

* * *

 

When they get back to the room, Will is too tired, and maybe a little (or a lot) drunk, whatever was in that drink, well, it hit him hard.  Without thinking, Will is stripping off layers.  First his shoes, then his button up shirt and his pants, all end up in a pile on the floor by the bed.  He flops into the bed and rolls himself up in the blanket.  Hannibal brings a glass of water to sit on Will’s bedside, “You will want this in the morning, I think.”  

Will clutches at Hannibal’s sleeve to stop him from walking away.  “Hannibal, I know this is crazy.  You’re my friend.  You’re my therapist.”  Will takes a breath to steady himself.  “I know it’s crazy, but I’m in love with you.  I know there are things about you that I don’t know, but I am.  I can’t help but to wish I was more to you.”

An unholy light glints in Hannibal’s eyes, and he cuts a looming figure with his horns rising to the ceiling casting shadows behind him.  “Will, you are my dearest friend, and yes, while unethical I cannot help but to want to be close to you.”  He sits on the edge of the bed, and leans over Will.  Will moves to sit up, but Hannibal’s hands come to hold him down to the bed, as Hannibal instead leans down to Will.  Their lips meet.  

Will’s mind goes blank.  All he can think is, this is happening, and he opens his mouth to Hannibal’s tongue’s gentle teasing along the seam of his lips.  Yes, this is happening.  Will pushes the kiss deeper, tongues sliding obscenely against each other.  He’s not paying attention to the fact that Hannibal’s teeth are very sharp indeed.  Hannibal groans and chases the taste of blood on Will’s tongue, before pulling away.  “While enjoyable this may be, I think it’s time for us to stop.”  Hannibal shifts on the bed, and discreetly adjusts himself.  “We should talk, first, before we go any farther.”

Will shakes his head, “You’re right.”  He smiles hopefully up at Hannibal, “Would you be willing to try a relationship with me?”

“There is no one I would rather.  You are my equal.  You see me.”

“No, I think I see the parts you want me to see.”

Hannibal’s smirk gives nothing away about the parts of him that Will can’t see.  “You see everything.  You just haven’t connected it yet. You will though, of that I have no doubt.”

“Good, I’d like that.”

Hannibal steps away from the bed, and begins to strip his suit off, carefully folding each piece and sitting it on a chair.  “Then we will try this, and see how it fits us.”  When Hannibal gets into the bed next to Will, he pulls Will into his arms and tangles their legs together.  “I already find this a very pleasant experience, Will, my dear boy, you are so handsome in my arms.  One day, soon, when we are soberer, we will have to see where our kisses lead us.”

Will relaxes in Hannibal’s arms, “That better be a promise.”

“I would never lie about this to you.”

Will ends up sleeping very well indeed that night.  Two nights of rest in a row, why that might even be a record for him.  Wait and see, indeed.  Things are already changing in Will, to fit the new shape that life is twisting itself into

* * *

 

Waking up next to Hannibal, this morning, unlike yesterday was probably one of the best things that have ever happened in Will’s life.  He’d floated through getting ready, and now he’s standing up at the altar, holding a ring and a glass.  The priestess does an invocation to Juno, Roman goddess of marriage and the hearth.  Cecil and Carlos are holding a broom in their hands, and can’t take their eyes off each other, and Will’s eyes keep wandering over to Hannibal.  He’s in the perfect spot for Will to peek from the corner of his eye without interrupting the ceremony.

Hannibal is just so handsome in his navy dinner jacket, and the horns, well, Will wonders how it’d feel to lick those horns.  Will manages to stop that particular train of thought, he has to pay attention after all.  His part has yet to come up.

Cecil and Carlos face the crowd and lay the broom on the ground in front of them.  “With this besome, you symbolize the coming together of your houses,” the priestess continues.  They hold hands and jump over the broom together, “Now I pronounce you husband and husband.  You may now kiss.”  As they kiss, Will throws the glass in his hands at their feet.  It shatters.

This is done to ward off evil spirits, the guests begin to stand up and make their way forward to each shatter a glass.  Hannibal has a very fine teacup in his hands, and it breaks with a musical tinkle.  Will grabs Hannibal’s hand and pulls him to his side.  

It was a very special ceremony.  Will feels it inside of him.  What’s started here, is something that will not be broken.  He clings tighter to Hannibal’s hand, hoping this feeling is true for him as well.

* * *

 

The reception takes place at City Hall.  The black velvet shrouds covering the building, since it is night now, make a charming backdrop to the purple banners strung up around the two glass cases that hold Franklin Wilson and Barton Donovan look particularly festive strung with aconite blooms and paper streamers.  It looks like most of Night Vale’s citizens have indeed shown up for this event.  Will can see Old Woman Josie with the angels following behind her walking to the refreshment table.  Will can see John Peters, you know the farmer, sitting next to Hiram McDaniels near the mostly unkempt tulip gardens.  The hooded figures are even setting up a sound system.

Will makes his way through the crowd with Hannibal at his side.  Hannibal is drawing many appreciative looks, why, if the Faceless Old Woman that secretly lives in your home, had had a face she would be looking adoringly at Hannibal.  He just seems to draw that kind of attention from every person he meets, but he’s here with Will.  They’re actually in a relationship now.  Will would pinch himself, but he knows he’s awake.  His dreams are never this good.

“Hey!”  A grating voice calls from behind Will, “Willy boy, is that you?”

It’s Kevin.  His incessant cheerfulness has always gotten on Will’s last nerve.  Will has no insight into how the residents of Desert Bluff can deal with hearing his voice constantly.  He smells like a charnel house, and there seem to be bits of viscera mixed in with his hair.  Will turns to face him, and Hannibal follows.  

“What do you want?”

“Oh, just seeing how you’re doing, Will!  It’s been so long.”  Kevin smiles wider, but his eyes are as hard as flint when he looks Will over dismissively.  “You don’t look like you’ve changed a bit, Will, you’re the same as ever.”  He smirks, “Boring.”

Kevin looks over Hannibal next, and his eyes light up at Hannibal’s appearance.  “Now you’re a fun one.”  Kevin attempts to slide closer to Hannibal, but Hannibal just gets closer to Will instead.  “Does little Willy here know what those sexy horns mean?”

Hannibal is taking his cue from Will because Will seems to be bristling in defense at the man in front of them.  He speaks shortly, “No, he does not, since I do not know what has caused them to grow, but we can figure it out on our own.”  Hannibal looks at Will fondly, “Will is very good at figuring things out.”

“Well, I think you’ve got a clue, handsome.”  Kevin shrugs, “Think about your deep dark secrets.  What do you hide?”  Hannibal doesn’t answer, so Kevin continues, “There’s only one way those show up on someone, and I know it,” in a teasing lilt.

“What is it?”  Will questions seriously.

“Why eating human flesh, of course.”  Kevin grins, “I bet it was tasty!  You have to eat quite a bit before you start to change.”  Kevin goes quiet waiting for the bomb to drop.

Will slowly looks over at Hannibal searching his face for answers, and he does, in fact, find them there.  

It’s true.

The scales fall from Will’s eyes.  This is the actual choice.  This is what he was told was important.  He was blind, there is no choice when it comes to loving Hannibal, and he just didn’t want to connect what he’d seen of Hannibal before.  The different parts of Hannibal, the face he shows the world and the monster that lies beneath the skin.  But there is a choice here, in this knowledge.  Will closes his eyes to avoid looking at Hannibal and giving his choice away quite yet.

This is an important choice.  It will decide the rest of Will’s life.

On one hand, Hannibal is a murderer.  He kills his prey, and then he eats them, and his prey is human beings.  Will helps catch people like Hannibal for a living.  He is certainly the mongoose to Hannibal’s snake, but something in Will balks at the thought of a life without Hannibal.  One side of Hannibal has given Will a challenge, brought out the best in Will’s gifts, and the other side has, well, made Will want to connect and reach out to meet him.  Both sides are Hannibal though, Will can see that now.  It is a gift of Night Vale to give him clarity.  Willows bend, and thus so will Will.  It's the only happy way forward now.

He can live with this as long as Hannibal is true to him.  He can even change.  That’s the true gift of his talent.  He doesn’t just see.  Will can mirror anyone; Will can become.

Will opens his eyes and looks Kevin over, ignoring the blood on Kevin’s hands.  “Are you done?”

Kevin’s grin grows wider, showing his very shiny white teeth, “I guess so, Willy.”

Will nods at Kevin’s grin, not backing down his predatory expression.  “Thanks for the information, Kevin, have a good night.”  Will grabs Hannibal and pulls him into a corner.

“I knew, I knew somewhere all along, inside of me.”  Will looks into Hannibal’s eyes.  He sees all of Hannibal now.  The arrogance, the affection, the predator inside.  “I just didn’t want to see it.”

“Is that so, dear Will?”  Hannibal’s voice slides through Will’s being, and Will is still seeing Hannibal’s darkness, but he’s not scared anymore.

Will has made his choice, and he falls into that darkness himself.  Head first, can’t hurt.  “But now, Hannibal, I can.”  His lips brush against Hannibal’s, “I don’t care.”  He speaks each word distinctly.  “I just want you in my life.”

Hannibal presses his lips against Will’s.  “There’s no going back after this.”

“You’d kill me first.”

“I would.”

* * *

 

The way back to the room is a blur.  Will doesn’t remember the short drive, too distracted by Hannibal sitting next to him, and the obvious bulge in his pants.  Will’s skin feels hot to the touch, and when they get to Miss Shirley’s, Will steals a quick kiss before he breaks into a run towards the door, away from Hannibal.  “Catch me!” is his rallying cry, for better or for worse.  

Hannibal stops, dead in his tracks, and stares at Will's retreating back.  It's only fair, he has a head start in these sort of games.  Hannibal is quite adept at chase, after all.

Three, two, one, and then Hannibal is off following behind the faint trail of Will's scent.  He gains quickly, but Will knows that Hannibal probably find it sweeter to let him think he can win this race.  Will bumps his elbow on the entrance's door frame.  The burst of pain doesn't slow him.  He tears through the hallway towards their room hoping that he's not disturbing any other guest here.  If he's lucky, they're all still at the reception, drinking their fill.  No one comes out of their rooms at least, so there is that in Will's favor, and he didn't see the ever-present Miss Shirley.

Will ends up pinned to the back of the door, unlocking it had, of course, slowed him enough for Hannibal to catch him.

"What are you hoping will come from this little game, dear boy?"  Hannibal pushes Will against the door, the grain of the wood scratching his face.  

"This."  Will grinds backwards into Hannibal.  "This right here."

Hannibal leans his face into the crook of Will's neck, "Well, you should get the door unlocked if this is what you want."  He places sloppy, sucking kisses where his lips meet Will's neck.

"Yes, I do."  Will fumbles with the key for a second before fitting the old key into the lock and with a click, the door swings inward.  Will stumbles forward, Hannibal's weight bearing him inside the room.  He pulls away from Hannibal, tearing at the damn tuxedo that he's still wearing.  Bow tie, first, untied, but still left in the collar of his shirt.  The buttons of the shirt are ripped open carelessly and several buttons fall to the floor to be trapped forever in the land of lost things like socks and their ilk.

Will doesn't even get the shirt completely off before Hannibal is back to pushing him from behind.  Hannibal pushes insistently at Will, herding him to the waiting bed.  Will doesn't resist at all, even though, he does stumble a little.  Hannibal keeps him from actually falling, though, and when Hannibal's hand wraps around the back of Will's neck, it's much-needed support as Will's knees go weak.  A few more steps and Will's knees bump against the mattress.  He climbs up onto the bed on his knees.  

Hannibal squeezes his neck, and leans forward to whisper against Will's ear, hot and heavily, but still with the utmost civility, "Hands and knees, please, dear boy."  He nips at Will's ear with his razor sharp teeth.  "I'll be back in a moment."  Hannibal lets go of Will's nape and steps back.  

Will breaths out and stills.  Hannibal won't keep himself away for long.  Breath in, and then out.  Will hears as Hannibal goes to his suitcase and rumages around, and then Will can hear Hannibal footfalls as he walks back towards Will.  Will hears the sound of a belt being drawn hastily through the hoops of pants, then the belt thumping when it drops to the floor.  Hannibal is standing directly behind him, at the edge of the bed, and then Will hears the gentle clink of zipper teeth coming apart and clothing rustling.  

Hannibal climbs back onto the bed, pushing Will forward, to fall off his hands into the mattress.  "Stay like this."  Hannibal's hand runs up Will's legs starting from his knees, going up, to grip Will's ass before moving on to the front to undo the clasp and unzip the zipper.  Hannibal tugs the pants and Will's boxer briefs down past his ass.  "Very, very good, dear boy."  Hannibal's hands pull away and then come back a moment later to rub against Will's hole.  "First, I'm going to prepare you," and his voice sound wrecked, low and gravely.  A finger pushes past the first ring of muscle with no warning.  

Will goes limp and buries his face into the bed cover.  “Yes!”

A second finger, then a third quickly join the first finger in moving in and out of Will’s hole, stretching it open, making it ready.

The fingers withdraw, leaving Will open and waiting, “Now I’m going to fuck you.  Are you ready for that?”

“Yes,”  Will raises his head from the bed, “yes, do it, please fuck me, Hannibal.”

The fat head of Hannibal’s cock pushes at Will’s entrance, and once the head pops into Will, Hannibal snaps his hips and the rest of his length is thrust into roughly into Hannibal.  Hannibal pulls himself almost completely out of Will before he roughly thrusts himself back in.  There are no more words spoken, Hannibal’s grunts loud in the room with only Will’s moans to accompany them.

It’s all Will can do to take it.  In and out, Hannibal thrusts his cock animalistically into Will’s pliant body, and then Hannibal’s hand wraps around Will’s ignored cock, giving a few rhythmless jerks, but it’s more than enough to send Will over the edge.  Will’s cum coats Hannibal’s hand, and even though Will’s cock is growing limp, Hannibal keeps caressing it as he thrusts himself as deeply as he can into Will.  Hannibal stills and then Will feels Hannibal’s release being pumped deeply inside of him.  Hannibal lets go of Will’s cock, and his hand moves to the back of Will’s neck to hold him in place.  Hannibal begins to slowly, shallowly thrust his spent cock inside of Will’s cum covered hole.  

Will can feel Hannibal’s cum dripping from his slightly sore hole, and Hannibal keeps moving in and out of it.  His cock seems to be rising to the occasion again, though, slowly hardening while still deep inside of Will’s body.

Hannibal moans loudly as his cock gets hard again.  He pulls out almost completely again, Will can feel the head of Hannibal’s cock catching on the rim of his hole, and then Hannibal buries himself inside of Will again.  This time is rougher, harder, and Hannibal’s hand on the back of Will’s neck keeps Will pinned down, forced the ride it out.  Will’s moans turn into pants, and pants into screams as Hannibal finds just the right angle to hit that wonderful spot that makes him feel electricity moving in his veins.

Hannibal uses his grip around the back of Will’s neck to pull Will up onto his knees while still fucking Will.  Once Will is up on his knees, his back is pressed against Hannibal’s chest, and Hannibal keeps fucking him as he mouths against and bites Will’s neck.  Hannibal’s rhythm is beginning to stutter, though, and Will knows he’s close again.  “Please, bite harder,” Will manages to gasp out between screams of pleasure.

Hannibal does.  Those sharp, oh so pointed, teeth break the skin of Will’s neck drawing blood.  Hannibal kisses it away, licking the wounds he’s made on Will’s neck, as his hips still and he cums again deep inside of Will.

Hannibal gently pulls back from Will, and Will can feel the cum flowing freely from his body as it tries to get used to the gaping emptiness where Hannibal was, only moments before.  Hannibal pulls Will’s shirt and jacket off, discarding them by the bed.  “These are a loss, I believe, dear boy.”  Hannibal runs his hands along Will’s now bare spine, “But a completely worthy one.”  Hannibal drops a kiss to the nape of Will’s neck again.

Will can’t quite form words yet, so he tries to push his pants completely off instead, and once he succeeds he turns to watch as Hannibal strips off the clothing he’d neglected to take off before they’d started.  

“Come to bed, let’s go to sleep.”  Will’s too tired for much else, and Hannibal seems to mirror that sentiment as he gets into the bed with Will and pulls Will close to him, sticky mess and all.

Will sleeps soundly that night.  He’s made his choice, and he’s content with it.

They're in this together now.

* * *

 

Things have changed.  Granted things are always changing, old cells die to be replaced by new ones, and given enough time you become a completely different person to what you once were.  Will knows this.  There is no going back or ignoring what lies between him and Hannibal now.

Night Vale has stripped the veil that laid over Will’s eyes and now he can see Hannibal for who he is, and he is indeed a monster, but Will is used to monsters, though, and Hannibal cares for Will, and sometimes that can be enough.  Will blushes a little when he remembers their previous night’s activities, it shouldn’t surprise Will at all to know that Hannibal is as hedonistic in bed as he is in every other aspect of his life, but for the life of him, Will doesn’t know why he never connected the dots in his fantasies of Hannibal.  His fantasies don’t quite measure up to real life, though, so Will rolls over to look at Hannibal lying peacefully on his back.  His horns curve up from his skull and have indeed grown magnificent rivaling some of the biggest bucks that Will has seen in the wild before.  If Hannibal shares any traits with the deer that Hannibal usually sees antlers on, he hopes that Hannibal will need to shed those antlers.  Will’s hands itch to run along their surface and feel the antler velvet, and he can picture another set of runes that need to be made for his hands and his hands alone.  But those are thoughts for the future, and right now Will just wants to lie his head back down on Hannibal’s firm chest and go back to sleep.  Will didn’t think that this trip would work out quite this way, but all the same, he’s perhaps the happiest that he’s ever been.  Everything but this moment can wait.

* * *

 

Eventually, they do end up moving back to Night Vale, and time passes, except for that kind of day where time gets stuck for whatever reason, perhaps the infernal machinations of things unspoken.  One day, Will wakes up to a queer prickling sensation in his scalp.  When he runs his fingers over his scalp, he finds the prick of horns peeking through flesh mixed in with his own hair.  He wasn’t very careful in his examination, but he can feel the sting of papercut like cuts opening up on his fingers.

He twists where he lays, nestled safely betwixt Hannibal’s arms, attempting and failing to avoid waking Hannibal.  When he sees that Hannibal is observing him, Will starts, “Check this out, I’m growing horns to match yours.”

“What handsome horns they will be, to be attached to you, they can be no less than perfection.”  Hannibal begins to nuzzle along Will’s jaw line, his intent clear from the heavy weight of his arousal pressed against Will’s leg.  

Will’s neck stretches exposing more skin to Hannibal’s ministrations.  “You think so?”

“I know so.  I love you, Will.”

They don’t speak anymore for a while.

There’s no need for words in the meeting of desire, flesh, sinew, and blood.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr! pinkglitterygoth.tumblr.com
> 
> References:
> 
> How to clean bones:  
> http://www.jakes-bones.com/p/how-to-clean-animal-bones.html  
> &  
> http://blog.stuckwithpins.com/2013/07/5-simple-steps-for-processing-and-cleaning-bones.html  
> Female ran, very friendly! 
> 
> Bone Carving:
> 
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Venus_figurines_of_G%C3%B6nnersdorf  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Franks_Casket
> 
> http://www.firemountaingems.com/resources/jewelry-making-articles/a92e
> 
> In bev & will’s convo Picked herring & booze for three days is a reference to a golgo bordello song called american wedding. Look up the vid it’s hilarious! Plus yay for gypsy punks!
> 
> The Food
> 
> http://www.wildyeastblog.com/2007/07/08/my-new-favorite-sourdough/  
> #15  
> Hassleback Veggies  
> http://www.thekitchn.com/how-to-make-hasselback-potatoes-cooking-lessons-from-the-kitchn-199763  
> Heart roast  
> http://www.thepaleomom.com/recipe-heart-roast/
> 
> Cheese & Honey Pizza  
> http://en.rocketnews24.com/2013/10/27/10-crazy-pizzas-from-japan/  
> It’s real, omg it’s real. I think I’d try it though. I’m into weird salty, sweet flavor combos.  
> Should I make a graphic recipe card? It’d fit the fandom well.
> 
> Creole Pizza  
> http://www.feedyoursoul2.com/2013/04/creole-pizza.html
> 
> I just really liked this article. https://www.gentlemansgazette.com/suits-hannibal-lecter-how-to-style/
> 
> Yep, I used aconite, also known as monkshood or wolfsbane for the flowers. I wanted purple flowers, lol, and I couldn’t resist the use of poisonous flowers for decorations. It is Night Vale after all.
> 
> Music Playlists for mood:
> 
> http://witchyrobobabe.tumblr.com/post/146232892775/turn-on-your-radio-and-hide-a-welcome-to-night
> 
> Got the theme for the sex scene from this post on tumblr:  
> [imaginensfw:](http://imaginensfw.tumblr.com/post/142858211697/imagine-your-favourite-character-mounting-you-like):  
> Imagine your favourite character mounting you like you’re in heat and mating with you, fucking you hard, deep and rough without any teasing or pausing, like a wild animal. Imagine them pushing you into the bed and making you scream, and as they cum deep inside you they push their cock right into you roughly, holding you tightly against them as they fill you up, and keep thrusting gently into your cum coated hole as they enjoy the aftermath of messing you up from the inside. Imagine them letting off a deep moan into your ear as they harden inside of you again, and fuck you even harder during the next round.
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3


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